Judges of AmIdol: The Curse of the Crappy Singers
by kkater
Summary: A parody of American Idol meets Pirates of the Caribbean I wrote four or five years ago. A lot of the humor is probably lost on people who aren't huge fans, and it sounds like something I wrote when I was much younger, but, hey, I laughed a bit.
1. Chapter 1

Top of Form 1

Bottom of Form 1

Paula stood in the offices at the Fox studios, looking out the window. "Straight up now tell me do you really wanna love me forever," she sang off- key. "Or am I caught in a-" She gasped as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around to see Simon Fuller standing there.

"Quiet, missy. Bad singers are in this studio. You don't want to bring them down on us now, do you?"

"Mr. Fuller, that will do!" exclaimed Colton Melby.

"She was singing crappily," Fuller told him. "Bad luck to be singing crappily with all these crappy singers around. Mark my words."

"Consider them marked," said Colt. "On your way."

"Sure, Colt," replied Fuller. "It's bad luck to have a woman as a judge, too, even a 80s pop-singer/dancer/choreographer one."

"I think it would be rather exciting to meet a crappy singer," said Paula.

"Think again, Miss Abdul," Colt said. "Vile and dissolute creatures, the lot of them. I intend to see to it that any man who sings 'Like A Virgin' or 'Escape' gets what he deserves - a 'That just wasn't good, dawg' from Randy and a 'That was absolutely dreadful' from Simon."

"Mr. Melby, I appreciate your fervor," Nigel interrupted. "But I'm…I'm concerned about the effect this subject will have upon my employee."

"My apologies, Mr. Lythgoe," apologized Colt.

"Actually, I find it all fascinating," Paula said.

"Yes, that's what concerns me," replied Nigel, fearing that an American Idol judge interested in crappy singers would not do well for ratings.

Paula looked out the door and saw a man with a black T-shirt and jeans walking into the studio. "Look, a man! There's a man in the studio!" she cried.

"Man coming in!" shouted Fuller.

"Fetch a cigarette! Bring him inside!" yelled Colt. Simon walked through the doors. "He's still wearing black!"

"Mary, mother of God," said Fuller, looking out the window at a man with brown hair wearing a huge green sweater.

"Who's that?" asked Nigel.

"It's most likely some guy walking on the street," suggested Colt.

"Everyone's thinking it; I'm just saying it - crappy singers!" Fuller said.

"There's no proof of that," said Nigel. "He probably came here by accident."

"Rouse the producers immediately!" Colt shouted.

"Paula, I want you to accompany the man," Nigel said, pointing to Simon. "He'll be in your charge. Take care of him."

Paula walked over to Simon. "It's okay. My name is Paula Abdul."

"S-s-simon Cowell."

"I'm watching over you, Simon." She looked down at the necklace he was wearing. It was a circle with a star in the middle of it, with the words "When you wish upon a star, you might just become one" engraved. She gasped. It was a defective piece of Innergy! "You're a th-theif!"

Paula hid the necklace as Colt came up to her. "Has he said anything?"

"His name is Simon Cowell," replied Paula. "That's all I found out."

"Take him to the dressing room," ordered Colt, not realizing he didn't even work on the show.

Paula looked out the window, seeing the man in the green sweater. He was incredibly ugly. She blinked, to see if maybe she was imagining things, but she wasn't.


	2. Chapter 2

Paula awoke in her dressing room from that dream and found the piece of defective jewelry in her dresser. She put it on and then heard a knock on the door.

"Paula? Are you all right? Are you decent?" Nigel asked behind the door.

Paula threw on a T-shirt. "Yes, yes!"

Nigel walked through the doors and looked out the windows. "It's a beautiful day. I have a gift for you." He handed Paula a pair of designer jeans.

"Oh, they're beautiful!" exclaimed Paula.

"Aren't they?" asked Nigel.

"May I inquire as to the occasion?"

"Does a TV show producer need a reason to dote upon his employee? Go on," he said, motioning for her to try on the jeans. "Actually, I, uh, I had hoped you might wear it for the ceremony today."

"The ceremony?" Paula asked, confused.

"Colton Melby's promotion ceremony."

"I knew it!" Paula exclaimed.

"CEO as he's about to become. Fine gentleman, don't you think? He fancies you. Paula? How's it coming?"

"It's difficult to say," Paula answered, trying to breathe in these incredibly tight jeans.

"I'm told it's the latest fashion in New York," said Nigel.

"Well, women in New York must've learned not to breathe."

"Nigel, you have a visitor," said a PA.

Nigel walked downstairs to see Simon standing there. "Ah, Mr. Cowell, good to see you again."

"Hi Nigel," greeted Simon. "I'm here for season 3. I was thinking for this season we could…" Simon continued sharing his ideas with Nigel.

"Impressive. Very impressive," Nigel said. "Ah, now, the producers will be very pleased with this." Just then, Paula came walking out of her dressing room, wearing her new jeans. "Paula, you look absolutely stunning."

Paula noticed Simon standing there. "Simon! So good to see you! I had a dream about you while I was sleeping."

"About me?" asked Simon.

"Paula, is that entirely proper for you to--" Nigel interrupted.

"About the day we met," Paula told Simon. "Do you remember?"

"How could I forget, Pawler?"

"Simon," said Paula. "How many times must I ask you to call me Paula?"

"At least once more, Pawler, as always."

"There, see, at least the man has a sense of Britishness," Nigel said. "Now, we really must be going. Farewell."

"Bye, Simon," said Paula.

"Come along," Nigel said.

"Bye…" Simon said as he watched Paula go onto the American Idol set. "…Paula."


	3. Chapter 3

American Idol auditioners who were waiting outside watched as a man with spiked blonde hair, a neon-orange T-shirt, and a pair of yellow pants drove into up to the studio. He left his car in the driveway and started making his way towards the door.  
  
"What? Hold up there, you!" called the valet guy to him. "It's a dollar to park valet. And I shall need to know where you got that shirt."  
  
"What do you say to three dollars and we forget the shirt?" asked the spiked-hair man.  
  
"Welcome to the Fox studios, Mr. Seacrest," said the valet guy.  
  
Meanwhile, Paula was attending Colt's promotion ceremony nearby. Colt had asked for Nigel and Fuller to be there as well, so they were.  
  
"And we'd like to congratulate our new CEO, Mr. Colton Melby!" announced an employee for Colt's company.  
  
While this was happening, Ryan had found his way into the studio. Not realizing who he was, two security guards stopped him. "This studio is off limits to civilians," said the first security guard.  
  
"I'm terribly sorry, I didn't know," apologized Ryan. "If I see one, I shall inform you immediately. I heard from Paula that there's some sort of high toned and fancy to do over in that office building across the street. How could it be that two upstanding security guards such as yourselves did not merit an invitation?"  
  
"Someone has to make sure these studios stay off-limits to civilians," the security guard said.  
  
"It's a fine goal to be sure, but it seems to me that a studio like that," he said, pointing to the CBS studios a block away, "makes this one a bit superfluous, really."  
  
"Ah, CBS is the power on TV, true enough, but there's no channel that can match Fox for the popularity of American Idol," the security guard told him.  
  
"I've heard of one! Supposed to get very good ratings, nigh unbeatable.American Juniors!" Ryan said, not realizing that American Idol always did better in ratings and it was on Fox too, anyway.  
  
"Well, there's no interesting show that can match American Idol," the second security guard said.  
  
"American Juniors is an interesting show," argued the first security guard.  
  
"No, no it's not," said the second.  
  
"Yes it is. I've seen it."  
  
"You've seen it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You haven't seen it."  
  
"Yes I have."  
  
"You've seen a show with 6 to 13 year old singers that's crewed by the damned and hosted by a man so annoying that Hell itself spat him back out?" asked the second guard, still not realizing who Ryan was.  
  
"No."  
  
"No."  
  
"But I have seen a show with that host in it!" said the first. As the two were arguing, Ryan was slipping past them into the studios.  
  
"Oh, and no show that's not crewed by the damned and hosted by a man so annoying that Hell itself spat him back out could possibly have 6 to 13 year old singers therefore couldn't possibly be any other show than American Juniors. Is that what you're saying?" the second security guard asked.  
  
"No," replied the first.  
  
"Like I said, there's no interesting show that can match American Idol," the second security guard said, noticing that Ryan had continued on to the studios.  
  
"Hey! You!" shouted the first man. "Get out of the studio!"  
  
"You don't have permission to be in here, dude!"  
  
"I'm sorry," said Ryan. "It's just such a pretty studio."  
  
"What's your name?" the first security guard asked.  
  
"Seacrest, or Seacrest if you're Simon," Ryan told them.  
  
"What's your purpose in the Fox studios, Mr. Seacrest?" asked the security guard.  
  
"Yeah, and no lies," said the other.  
  
"Well, then, I confess," said Ryan, surprised they still didn't know who he was. "It is my intention to take over this show, make it get higher ratings, fire the producers I don't like, and make millions of dollars a show."  
  
"I said no lies!" said one security guard, exasperated.  
  
"I think he's telling the truth," the second one said.  
  
"If he were telling the truth, he wouldn't have told us."  
  
"Unless, of course, he knew you wouldn't believe the truth even if he told it to you," Ryan said, thinking he was being philosophical.  
  
During this, Paula and Colt were walking to the studio together from his promotion ceremony. "May I have a moment?" he asked. They sat down on a bench in front of the Fox studios. "You look lovely, Paula." She smiled. "I apologize if I seem forward but I.must speak my mind. This promotion throws into sharp relief that which I have not yet achieved - a marriage to a fine woman. You are a fine woman, Paula."  
  
"I can't breathe," said Paula, her jeans incredibly tight.  
  
"Yes, I'm a bit nervous myself," Colt said, not noticing as Paula fainted and fell off the bench onto the grass. 


	4. Chapter 4

"And then they made me their host," Ryan told the security guards.  
  
Over at the bench, Colt had noticed that Paula had fainted. "Paula? Paula!" he yelled and jumped on top of her in an attempt to do mouth-to- mouth reciprocation. He had no clue how to do it, so his attempt failed.  
  
Ryan noticed the commotion. "Will you be saving her then?" he asked the security guards.  
  
"I can't do mouth-to-mouth," one replied.  
  
"Pearl of Fox's security you are." Ryan handed them his makeup bag and prepared to save Paula. "Do not lose these."  
  
Suddenly, out of no where, a loud shriek came. "Like a virgin," shrieked the voice.  
  
"What was that?" asked a security guard as they followed Ryan who had picked Paula up from the grass and sat her on the bench. "I got her. Not breathing!"  
  
"Move!" ordered Ryan. He pushed the security guard aside and unbuttoned Paula's pants. She started coughing, trying to regain her breath.  
  
"Never would have thought of that," the other security guard said.  
  
"Clearly, you've never seen a woman wearing jeans," Ryan said as he noticed Paula's defective Innergy necklace. "Where did you get that?"  
  
"On your feet!" commanded Colt.  
  
"Paula, are you all right?" asked Nigel.  
  
"Yes I'm fine," Paula replied.  
  
"Fire him!" Colt said.  
  
"Nigel, Colt, do you really intend to fire my rescuer?" asked Paula.  
  
"I believe thanks are in order," said Colt, shaking Ryan's hand, who then realized who this man was. "Had a brush with a bad joke, did we, host?"  
  
"Fire him!" said Nigel, remembering the thousands of horrible jokes Ryan had made last year.  
  
"Well, well," said Colt. "Ryan Seacrest, is it?"  
  
"Host Ryan Seacrest, if you please, sir."  
  
"Well, I don't see your microphone.host," replied Colt.  
  
"It's in the studio, as it were."  
  
"He said he'd come to take over the show," a security guard told Colt.  
  
"Told ya he was telling the truth," said the other. He handed Colt Ryan's makeup bag. "This is his, sir."  
  
"No additional mascara nor powder. An eyeliner that doesn't work." Colt pulled out a lipstick container. "And I half expected it to be melted. You are, without doubt, the worst host I've ever heard of."  
  
"But you have heard of me," argued Ryan as the security guards took him away.  
  
"Colt, I really must protest," interjected Paula. "Crappy host or not, the man saved my life."  
  
"One good deed is not enough to redeem a man a season of bad jokes," Colt said.  
  
"Though it seems enough to condemn him," Ryan pointed out.  
  
"Indeed," agreed Colt as he stepped away from Ryan.  
  
"Finally," Ryan said, grabbing Paula's neck. "I knew you'd warm up to me. Colt, my makeup bag please, and my hair gel. Colt! Paula. It is Paula, isn't it?"  
  
"It's Miss Abdul," Paula said through gritted teeth.  
  
"Miss Abdul, if you'd be so kind," he said, motioning for her to put his makeup bag in his backpack. "Come, come, dear. We don't have all day. Now if you'd be very kind. Easy on the goods, darling."  
  
"You're despicable," spat Paula.  
  
"Sticks and stones, love," said Ryan. "I have save your life, you save my job. We're square. Gentleman, m'lady, you will always remember this as the day you almost fired Host Ryan Seacrest!" He let go of Paula and ran towards his car.  
  
"Arrest him for attempted murder!" Colt shouted as men ran after him. 


	5. Chapter 5

Ryan ran back through the studio so he could get to his car. As he heard footsteps, he stepped into a door, which turned out to lead to Simon's dressing room. One of Simon's black shirts was laying on the couch. As Ryan picked it up and examined it, he heard the door creaking open and hid behind the couch.  
  
"Right where I left you," said Simon as he entered the room and saw his pack of Kool's on the table. He then saw his black shirt which had been moved. "Not where I left you."  
  
Realizing that Simon would figure out someone was in his dressing room, Ryan pulled a lipgloss out of his bag and pointed it at Simon.  
  
"You're the one they're firing," said Simon. "The crappy host."  
  
"You seem somewhat familiar," replied Ryan, not recognizing Simon. "Have I hosted a show with you before?"  
  
"I make a point of avoiding familiarity with crappy hosts."  
  
"Ah. Well, then it would be a shame to put a black mark on your record. So, if you'll excuse me -" Simon pulled out from his pocket a black pen that was slightly chewed. Ryan realized that it was the this-is-a-pen-not- a-magic-wand pen and gasped. "Do you think this wise, man, crossing pens with a host?"  
  
"You threatened Miss Abdul," said Simon with a gleam in his eye.  
  
"Only a little," Ryan said and began fighting Simon with his lipgloss. Simon defended himself with his pen. "You know what you're doing, I'll give you that. Excellent form. But how's your footwork? If I step here," he stepped and Simon followed him. "Very good. Now I step again. Ta." Ryan tried to walk out the door, but Simon threw his pen, causing it to land in the door knob. Ryan tried to turn it, but it was stuck because of the pen. "That is a wonderful trick. Except, once again, you are between me and my way out. And now you have no weapon." Simon pulled out another slightly chewed pen from his pocket. "Who chews all these?"  
  
"I do!" said Simon proudly. "And I write with them three hours a day!"  
  
"You need to find yourself a girl, dude," said Ryan. "Or, perhaps the reason you write three hours a day is that you already found one and are otherwise incapable of wooing said strumpet. You're not a eunuch, are you?"  
  
"I write three hours a day so when I can meet a crappy host," said Simon, "I can kill it!" The two continued fighting for a few minutes, dodging each other's blows. Reaching into his makeup bag, Ryan pulled out some blush and threw it at Simon's face.  
  
"You cheated!" exclaimed Simon.  
  
"Host. Move away."  
  
"No."  
  
"Please move."  
  
"No! I cannot just step aside and let you escape."  
  
Ryan pulled out his mascara. "This mascara is not meant for you." Just then, Randy came into the dressing room and hit Ryan on the head, causing him to be knocked unconscious.  
  
Colt, Nigel, and the security guards came running in. "Excellent work, Mr. Jackson," said Colt. "You've assisted in the capture of a dangerous fugitive."  
  
"Just doing my civic duty, dawg," Randy replied.  
  
"Well, I trust you will always remember this as the day Host Ryan Seacrest almost escaped," Colt said. "Take him away." 


	6. Chapter 6

Ryan had been locked up in a room in the American Idol studios, along with a few other American Idol contestants that had caused trouble. Paula had left her Chihuahua Thumbelina to be taken care of by these people. Thumbelina had a spare key to the door tied around her neck.  
  
"Come here, girl," said one of the contestants, holding out a milkbone. "Want a nice juicy bone? Come here. Come on."  
  
"You can keep doing that forever, the dog is never going to move," said Ryan.  
  
"Oh, excuse us if we haven't resigned ourselves to a fine just yet," replied a contestant.  
  
*********  
  
Over in Paula's dressing room, she was preparing to take a nap. "There you go, miss," said a PA, giving Paula a blanket. "It was a difficult day for you, I'm sure."  
  
"I suspected Colt would propose but I must admit I wasn't entirely prepared for it," replied Paula.  
  
"Well, I meant you being threatened by that host," the PA said. "Sounds terrifying."  
  
"Oh, yes. It was terrifying."  
  
"But Colt proposed!" said the PA excitedly. "Fancy that. That's a smart match, miss, if it's not too bold to say."  
  
"It is a smart match," Paula said sadly. "He's a fine man. He's what any woman should dream of marrying."  
  
"Well, that Simon Cowell, he's a fine man too."  
  
"That is too bold," replied Paula.  
  
"Well, begging your pardon, miss. It was not my place."  
  
*********  
  
Meanwhile, Colt was talking to Nigel in an office. "Has my employee given you an answer yet?" asked Nigel.  
  
"No, she hasn't."  
  
"Well, she has had a very trying day." Nigel looked out the window and saw clouds forming over. "Ghastly weather, don't you think?"  
  
"Bleak," said Colt. "Very bleak."  
  
"What's that?" Nigel asked as he heard a loud noise.  
  
"Crappy singers!" yelled Colt. "Get them out!"  
  
*********  
  
Ryan heard the noise from the room he was in as well. "I know that voice. It's Keith."  
  
"Keith?" asked one of the contestants in his room. "I've heard stories. He's been destroying people's eardrums since last season. Never leaves any survivors."  
  
"No survivors?" asked Ryan. "Then where do the stories come from, I wonder?"  
  
*********  
  
"Nigel, put in some ear plugs," commanded Colt. "That's an order!"  
  
*********  
  
Paula had been woken by this singing and watched as her PA went to open the door. "No, don't!" she yelled, fearing that the PA's eardrums would be destroyed. The PA opened the door anyway.  
  
"In the carport, two cars, his and hers," sang the man at the door off-key. Paula plugged her ears. The PA fainted. Paula ran into the bathroom and shut the door, hoping to block the sound out. The man ran after her, still singing. "On the towel rack, two towels, his and hers." Paula hid in a closet. Oh my god. It's Viggo. She thought.  
  
"Choo can run choo can hide." sang a man who was with him, who Paula recognized to be Edgar from season two.  
  
"We know you're here, poppet," said Viggo.  
  
"Poppet," Edgar giggled.  
  
"Come out and we promise we won't hurt you," Viggo said. "We will find you, Poppet. You've got something of ours and it calls to us. The Innergy calls to us."  
  
"Innergy calls." giggled Edgar again.  
  
Viggo opened the closet door where Paula was. "'Ello, poppet."  
  
"You're going to Hollywood," said Paula nervously.  
  
"What?" asked Viggo, confused.  
  
"You're going to Hollywood," she repeated. "According to the code of American Idol, set down by the producers Nigel and Fuller, you get to go to Hollywood and leave me alone.  
  
"I know the code," hissed Viggo.  
  
"If a judge says you go to Hollywood, you can do them no harm and you have to leave the studios."  
  
"To blazes with the code!" said Edgar.  
  
"She wants us to go to Hollywood," Viggo said. "And we'll go without a fuss. We must honor the code."  
  
*********  
  
Simon was trying to fend of crappy singers in his dressing room. "So take a look at me now." croaked Terra, the Mariah Carey wannabe.  
  
Realizing Paula might be in danger, he called out her name. "Paula!"  
  
"Simon!" she was calling from her dressing room in hopes that he might be able to hear her over this horrible singing. But as Terra attempted a high- note, he fell to the ground unable to take it any longer. 


	7. Chapter 7

A few of the crappy singers had entered the room with Ryan and the other contestants. Fortunately, they had found a drawer full of earplugs and put them in.  
  
"My sympathies friend," said a contestant as he walked out of the open door. "You've no matter of luck at all." He slammed the door behind him, leaving Ryan locked in the room.  
  
"Come on, doggy," said Ryan, trying to tempt Thumbelina over to give him the key. "It's just you and me now. Just you and ol' Ryan. Come on. Come on. Good girl. That's it. Good girl. Come on. Bit closer. Bit closer. That's it, that's it, doggy. Come on you filthy, slimy, mangy cad." Thumbelina ran to the other side of the room, whimpering. "No, no, no, no, no. I didn't mean it. I didn't --" He was interrupted by two crappy singers entering the room.  
  
"This ain't the microphones," said one.  
  
"Well, well, well," said the other. "Look what we have here. Host Ryan Seacrest.  
  
"Last time I saw you, you were all alone on a godforsaken street corner, shrinking into the distance," said the first. "His fortunes aren't improved much."  
  
"Worry about your own fortunes, gentlemen. The deepest circle of Hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers." replied Ryan, remembering the musical group they had all been in ten years ago.  
  
"You know nothing of Hell," sang the first crappy singer off-key.  
  
"So there is a curse," realized Ryan, hearing the bad voices of the singers. "That's interesting. That's very interesting."  
  
-------  
  
Viggo and Edgar had taken Paula out front to the parking lot, where they had thrown her in a van. "I didn't know we were takin' on captives," said Robert, who was part of the group of crappy singers.  
  
"She's told us we're going to Hollywood," said Viggo.  
  
"I'm her to negotiate -" Paula started but was slapped by Robert.  
  
"You will speak when spoken to," said Robert.  
  
"And ye'll not lay a hand on those who said we're going to Hollywood," interrupted Keith.  
  
"Aye, sir," obeyed Robert.  
  
"My apologies miss." Keith said.  
  
"Keith, I am here to negotiate the cessation of bad singing against American Idol."  
  
"There are a lot of long words in there, miss," said Keith. "We're not but humble crappy singers. What is it that you want?"  
  
"I want you to leave and never sing to us again," Paula told him.  
  
"I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your request," said Keith. Paula stared at him blankly. "Means no."  
  
"Very well. I'll throw it out the window," Paula said, holding the defective piece of Innergy to the window.  
  
"Me holds are burstin' with swag and that bit of shine matters to us?" Keith wasn't even sure himself what he was talking about. "Why?"  
  
"It's what you've been searching for," Paula said. "I recognize you. I saw you eight months ago on the showing of American Idol."  
  
"Did ya now?" asked Keith.  
  
"Fine," said Paula. "Well, I suppose if it is worthless then there's no point in me keeping it." She stuck her arm that was holding the Innergy farther out the window.  
  
"No!" the crappy singers shouted, trying to stop her from dropping it.  
  
"You have a name, missy?" Keith questioned.  
  
"Paula.Cowell," she lied. "I'm a PA for American Idol."  
  
"Miss Cowell?" Keith asked.  
  
"Simon," Viggo whispered to Edgar. Edgar gasped.  
  
"And how does a PA come to own a trinket such as that?" said Keith. "Family heirloom, perhaps?"  
  
"I didn't steal it if that's what you mean," Paula said.  
  
"Very well," replied Keith. "You hand it over and we'll put your studio to our bumper and never return."  
  
Paula handed the necklace to Keith. "Our bargain?"  
  
"Start driving," ordered Keith.  
  
"Wait!" shouted Paula. "You have to take me back to the studio. According to the code of American Idol -"  
  
"First," said Keith. "Your return to shore was not part of our negotiations nor our agreement so I must do nothing. And secondly, you must be a producer for the American Idol code to apply and you're not. And thirdly, the code is more what you'd call 'guidelines' than actual rules. Welcome aboard the Crappy Singermobile, Miss Cowell." 


	8. Chapter 8

"They've taken her! They've taken Paula!" cried Simon, approaching Nigel and Colt.

"Security," said Colt. "Remove this man."

"We have to hunt them down," Simon said, ignoring Colt. "We must save her!"

"And where do you propose we start?" asked Nigel. "If you have any information concerning my employee, please, share it."

"That Ryan Seacrest," interrupted a security guard. "He talked about crappy singers."

"Mentioned it is more what he did," corrected another.

"Ask him where they are!" suggested Simon excitedly. "Make a deal with him. He could lead us to them."

"No..." said Colt. "The crappy singers who invaded this studio left Seacrest locked in his room. Ergo, they are not his allies. Governor, we will establish their most likely course--"

"That's not good enough!" shouted Simon, furious.

"Mr. Cowell, you are not a police man, you are not a security guard." Colt glared at him. "You are a British record company executive and this is not the moment for rash actions. Do not make the mistake of thinking you are the only man here who cares for Paula."

-----------

"Please..." begged Ryan, trying to pick at the lock on the door with a hair clip from his hair. He heard someone entering through the back door and quickly put it away.

"You, Seacrest!" called the person, who turned out to be Simon.

"Yeah?"

"You are familiar with that crappy singer, Keith?"

"I've heard of him."

"Where does he live?"

"Where does he live?" asked Ryan. "Have you not heard the stories? Keith and his band of crappy singers drove from the dreaded Calle de los Cantantes Horribles. It is an street that cannot be found except by those who already know where it is."

"Keith's real enough," argued Simon. "Therefore his house must be a real place. Where is it?"

"Why ask me?"

"Because you're a host," answered Simon.

"And you want to turn host yourself? Is that it?"

"Never!" yelled Simon, offended. He looked down at his feet. "They've taken Paula."

"Oh! So it is that you've found a girl! I see. Well, if you're intending to brave all, hasten to her rescue, and so win fair lady's heart, you'll have to do it alone, dude. I see no profit in it for me."

"I can get you out of here," Simon told him.

"How's that?" asked Ryan. "The key's run off."

"I helped pay for these doors. These are half pin-barrel hinges. With the right leverage and a proper application of strength, the door will lift free." Simon could have just told him to go out the back door, but that would've been too easy.

"What's your name?" Ryan questioned.

"Simon Cowell."

"That would be short for Simonarilufdalid, I imagine," guessed Ryan. "Good, strong name. No doubt named for your great step-uncle, right?"

"Yes."

"Aha. Well, Mr. Cowell, I've changed me mind," Ryan told Simon. "If you spring me from this cell, I swear on pain of death, I shall take you to Keith and your bonnie lass. Do we have an accord?"

"Agreed," said Simon, shaking Ryan's hand.

"Agreed! Get me out!"

Simon kicked the door open. "Hurry! Someone will have heard that."

"Not without my makeup!" Ryan said, running out of the studio.


	9. Chapter 9

Simon and Ryan stood in the halls of the studio, trying to make their way out. "We're going to steal a tour bus?" asked Simon. "_That_ tour bus?"

"Comandeer," corrected Ryan. "We're going to commandeer _that _tour bus. Road term. One question about your business, dude, or there's no use going. This girl. How far are you willing to go to save her?"

"I'd die for her," Simon admitted.

"Oh good. No worries then." Ryan threw a huge green cloth around the two of them and they made their way out of the studio, across the parking lot, and towards a parked tour bus.

"This is either madness or brilliance," said Simon.

"It's remarkable how often those two traits coincide." They found their way to the tour bus, tripping over rocks and sticks on the grass a few times. They climbed the steps into the bus and Ryan stuck out his lipgloss. "Everyone stay calm. We are taking over the bus!"

"Aye, avast!" said Simon, having a little fantasy he was a pirate. The driver laughed at him and Ryan gave him a weird look. 43-year-old men should not be playing pirates.

"This bus cannot be driven by two men," said the bus driver. "You'll never make it out of the parking lot."

"Son, I'm Host Ryan Seacrest. Savvy?" The bus driver ran out of the bus, scared.

"Sir, they've taken the tour bus," shouted a security guard back at the studio. "Seacrest and Cowell, they've taken the tour bus."

"Rash, Cowell," said Colt. "Too rash."

"Here they come," Simon said to Ryan as he saw security guards approaching the bus. Ryan grinned.

The security guards along with Colt began loading onto the bus. "Search every seat, every overhead compartments, down to the engine!" demanded Colt. As they were searching, Ryan and Simon climbed out of the windows and began boarding a bus that was parked nearby.

"Thank you Colt for getting us ready to make way!" Ryan shouted to him from the second bus. "We'd have had a hard time with it by ourselves!"

"Set the engine and clear this mess," said Colt.

"With the speed of this bus, we won't catch them," argued a security guard.

"We don't need to catch them," Colt said. "Just get them in range of the long nines."

"Guards, come about!" the security guard announced. "Run out the guns. We open fire on our own van, sir?"

"I'd rather see her at the street corner of a ghetto town than in the hands of a host," said Colt.

"That has got to be the best host I've ever seen," the security guard surmised.

Colt grimaced. "So it would seem."


	10. Chapter 10

Ryan and Simon drove in their bus, Ryan sitting in the driver's seat and Simon sitting a few rows back.

"When I was a lad living in England, my mother raised me by myself…only with my dad too," said Simon. "After he died, I came out here, looking for my great step-uncle."

"Is that so?" asked Ryan, not really caring.

"My great step-uncle, Simon Cowell. And in jail it was only after you learned my name that you agreed to help," Simon pointed out. "Since that's what I wanted, I didn't press the matter. I'm not a simpleton, Ryan. You knew my great step-uncle."

"I knew him," admitted Ryan. "Probably one of the few who knew him as Simonarilufdalid. Everyone else just called him Loser, or Loser Simon."

"Loser?" asked Simon, slightly offended.

"Good man. Bad singer. I swear you look just like him."

"It's not true," Simon said. "He was a producer. A good, respectable man who didn't sing crappily."

"He was a freakin' singer, one who sucked."

"My great step-uncle was not a crappy singer!" Simon pulled out his pen-not-a-magic-wand.

"Put it away, man. It's not worth you being beat again."

"You didn't beat me," argued Simon. "You ignored the rules of engagement. In a fair fight, I'd kill you."

"And that's no incentive for me to fight fair, is it?" Ryan rolled his eyes. By this time, Simon was standing by the door. Ryan swung the door open, leaving Simon hanging by his collar on the door. "Now as long as you're just hanging there, pay attention. The only rules that really matter are these: what a man can do and what a man can't do. For instance, you can accept that your great step-uncle was a crappy singer and a good man or you can't. But crappy singer is in your blood, boy, so you'll have to square with that some day. And me, for example, I can let you get run over but I can't bring this bus into Pasadena all by me onesies, savvy?" Simon looked at him. "So can you sail under the command of a host or can you not?"

"Pasadena?" Simon asked.

"Pasadena."

The two of them drove for about 30 minutes until they came upon a sign that read "Welcome to Pasadena." They parked at a gas station, and got out, walking around for a while.

"…More importantly, it is indeed a sad life that has never breathed deep the sweet proliferous bouquet that is Pasadena, savvy?" Ryan was saying. "What do you think?"

"It will linger," replied Simon.

"I'll tell you mate, if every town in the world were like this one, no man would ever feel unwanted." Ryan noticed a blonde-haired lady who he recognized to be Lisa Foxx, his co-host on his radio station. "Lisa!"

She came up to him and slapped him. "I'm not sure I deserved that," he said to Simon. He then noticed his co-host from the first season of American Idol. "Brian!"

"Who was she?" Brian asked.

"What?" Ryan was confused. Brian slapped him. "I may have deserved that."


	11. Chapter 11

Ryan led Simon to a house a few blocks away. There they found a man fast asleep on the front porch. Ryan pulled out a bottle of water from his fanny pack and through it on the man.

"Curse you for breathing, you slack jawed idiot!" yelled the man, having been awoken. Realizing who was standing in front of him, his face softened. "Mother's love! Ryan! You should know better than to wake a man when he's sleeping. It's bad luck."

"Ah, fortunatley, I know how to counter it," said Ryan. "The man who did the waking buys the man who was sleeping a drink. The man who was sleeping drinks it while listening to a proposition from the man who did the waking."

The man stared at him blankly, confused. After about ten minutes, he figured out what Ryan had been saying. "I'll about do it."

Simon took a bottle of water from his backpack and threw it on the man, just like Ryan had done. "Blasted, I'm already awake!" exclaimed the man.

"That was for the smell," Simon explained.

The three of them walked to a local McDonald's. On the way, Ryan introduced Simon to the man, who turned out to be the same Nigel Simon had met two seasons before. Simon's memory had kinda been lacking, though, so he had no clue who Nigel was.

They arrived at the McDonald's, which was located in a slightly run-down area of town.

Ryan, Simon, and Nigel had barely seen anything like it. The people there actually couldn't afford multi-million dollar houses. Amazing!

"Keep a sharp eye," Ryan warned Simon, afraid of these people who weren't as rich as him. He then sat down at a table with Nigel while Simon waited for his food.

"Now what's the nature of this venture your'n?" Nigel asked.

"I'm going after the Crappy Singermobile." Nigel spit out his coke upon hearing this. Ryan continued. "I know where it's going to be and I'm going to take it."

"Ryan, it's a fool's errand. Well, you know better than me the tales of the Crappy Singermobile."

"That's why I know what Keith's up to," said Simon. "All I need is a crew."

"From what I hear tell of Keith, he's not a man to suffer fools, nor strike a bargain with one."

"Well, then I say it's a very good thing I'm not a fool then."

"Prove me wrong," said Nigel. "What makes you think Keith will give up his van to you?"

"Let's just say it's a matter of leverage." Ryan nodded his head towards Simon.

"The adult?"

"That is the great step-nephew of Loser Simon Cowell. His only great step-nephew. Savvy?"

"Is he now?" asked Nigel. "Leverage says you? I think I feel a change in the wind says I. I'll find us a crew. There's bound to be some drivers in this city crazy as you."

"One can only hope." Ryan lifted up his cup of iced tea to toast Nigel. "Take what you can."

"Give nothing back." They sipped their drinks and then banged them down on the table, causing Ryan's iced tea to splash over the edge. Soon, they would be on their way to re-capturing the Crappy Singermobile.


	12. Chapter 12

"You'll be dining with Keith," Viggo said to Paula, who was sitting in the back of the Crappy Singermobile. They had pulled over on the side of the road and she could see a run-down building outside. He shoved a revealing top in her face. "And he requests you wear this."

"Well, you may tell Keith that I am disinclined to acquiesce to his request," replied Paula.

"He said you'd say that," laughed Viggo. "He also said that if that be the case, you'll be dining with the crappy singers…and you'll be naked." Paula snatched the top from him. "Fine," he grunted.

Paula got out of the car and entered the building. Viggo led her to a room down the hallway where she saw Keith sitting at a table. She sat down and was handed a slice of pepperoni pizza. She slowly ate it, trying to follow her manners.

"There's no need to stand on ceremony, nor call to impress anyone. You must be hungry." Paula began eating the pizza more quickly. "Try the root beer. And the Cheez-Its? One of those next."

Paula eyed the box of Cheez-Its. "It's poisoned," she realized.

"There would be no sense to be killing you Miss Cowell."

"Then release me," Paula commanded. "You have your trinket. I'm of no further value to you."

Keith pulled the Innergy from his sweater pocket. "You don't know what this is, do you?"

"It's a piece of Innergy jewelry," said Paula.

"This is deformed Innergy. One of 882 identical pieces they delivered in a Tupperware container to Jim Verraros himself," Keith explained. "Blood money paid to stem the slaughter he wreaked upon them with his singing. But the greed of Jim was insatiable. So the heathen producers placed upon the Innergy a terrible curse. Any mortal that removes but a single piece from that Tupperware container shall be punished for eternity."

"I hardly believe in ghost stories anymore, Keith."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I thought when we were first told the tale. Buried on a street that cannot be found except for those who already know where it is. Find it, we did. There be the Tupperware, inside be the Innergy. We took them all. Spent them and traded them. We frittered them away on drink and food and pleasurable company. The more we gave them away, the more we came to realize - the drink would not satisfy, food turned to ash in our mouths, and all the pleasurable company in the world could not slake our lust. We are cursed men, Miss Cowell. Compelled by our greed we were, and now we are consumed by it."

Meanwhile, Paula was taking a plastic knife and hiding it under her napkin.

"There is one way we can end our curse," Keith continued. "All the scattered pieces of the Innergy must be restored and the blood repaid. Thanks to you, we have the final piece."

"And the blood to be repaid?" asked Paula.

"That's why there's no sense to be killing you…yet. Cheez-It?"

Paula sprung to her feet and tried to stab Keith with the plastic knife. He dodged her and from his throat came a terrible sound. "Like a virgin, touched for the very first time," he screeched. Paula fell to the floor, her hands covering her ears. He stopped just in time so that Paula would not be killed.

"I'm curious," said Keith. "After killing me, what was it you planning on doing next?" Paula ran away from him, down the hallway, and into the backyard of the building. She screamed in horror as she heard a huge cacophony of singing.

"In the carport like a virgin choo can run…" she heard in the mix of voices. A few singers grabbed her and singed loudly in her ears. She had never been more frightened in her life. She ran back into the building and was stopped by Keith at the door.

"Look!" he yelled. "The moonlight shows us for what we really are. We are not among the popstars and so we cannot sell records, but neither are we not singers. For too long I've been trying to get a record deal and haven't gotten it. Too long I've been in talent shows and haven't won. I feel nothing. Not the wind on my face nor the spray of the sea, nor the warmth of a woman's flesh. You best start believing ghost stories Miss Cowell. You're in one." He laughed and the other crappy singers joined him. "What are you looking at?" he asked them. "Back to practicing!"


	13. Chapter 13

"Feast your eyes, host," said Simon Fuller to Ryan. "All of them, faithful hands before the steering wheel. Every man worth his salt. And crazy to boot."

"So this is your able-bodied crew?" Simon asked spectically, glancing at the men standing before him, all different sizes and shapes. They were standing in front of the bus, getting ready to leave.

"You, guy!" Ryan called out to one geeky looking man.

"Aiken, sir," Fuller told him.

"Mr. Fuller. Do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders and stay true in the face of danger and almost certain death?" Ryan asked. Clay did not answer. "Mr. Aiken? Answer, man!"

"He's a mute sir," said Fuller. "Poor devil had his tongue cut out, so he trained the border collie to talk to him. No one's yet figured how…"

"Mr. Aiken's...border collie," Ryan said. "Same question."

"Wind in the tires!" the border collie barked. "Wind in the tires!"

"Mostly, we figure that means yes," Fuller explained.

"Of course it does," agreed Ryan. He looked at Simon. "Satisfied?"

"Well you've proved them mad."

"And what's the benefit for us?" a female voice coming from the far side of the group said.

"Kristin Holt?" he asked. She slapped him.

"I suppose you don't deserve that one either," said Simon, rolling his eyes.

"No, that one I deserved."

"You stole my position as host!" Kristin yelled.

"Actually…" He was interrupted by her slapping him again. "Borrowed. Borrowed without permission. But with every intention of giving it back to you."

"But you didn't!" argued Kristin.

"You'll get another job!"

"I will."

"A better one," Simon interjected.

"A better one!" Ryan agreed.

"That one," said Simon, pointing to a homeless man playing a banjo on the sidewalk.

"What one?" Ryan asked. He saw the homeless man. "Aye! That one! What say you?"

"Yeah!" the crew shouted. They began boarding the bus.

Fuller came up to Ryan. "No, no, no. It's frightful bad luck to have a woman aboard."

"It would be far worse not to have her," Ryan said.

They boarded the bus and began driving. After about ten minutes, they ran into traffic on the 210.

"How can we drive to a street that nobody can find with a host that completely sucks?" Simon asked Fuller. They were sitting next to each other on the bus.

"Aye, the host sucks, but we don't need a good host, do we?" Fuller got up and stood next to Ryan.

"We should pull over, sir," Fuller suggested.

"We can drive a bit longer," insisted Ryan.

"What's in your head that put you in such a fine mood, host?" asked Fuller.

Ryan grinned. "We're catching up."


	14. Chapter 14

"Time to go, poppet," Viggo said to Paula. She was waiting in a room inside of the building that belonged to Keith and the other crappy singers. They were ready to drive to the dreaded Calle de los Cantantes Horribles.

Over on the tour bus Ryan and Simon had taken over, Raleigh, Clay's dog, was barking. "Dead men tell no tales!"

"Puts a chill in the bones how many honest bus drivers have been claimed by this freeway," Fuller commented to Simon.

"How is it that Ryan came by that 1982 map?" Simon asked.

"Not a lot known about Ryan Seacrest before he showed up in Pasadena with a mind to go after the treasure of Calle de los Cantantes Horribles," replied Fuller. "That was before I met him. Back when he was driver of the Crappy Singermobile."

"What?" questioned Simon. "He failed to mention that."

"Well, he plays things closer to the see-through blouse now. And a hard learned lesson it was." He leaned in towards Simon. "See, three days out on the venture, the lead backup singer comes to him and tells him everything's an equal share as should be the location of the treasure, too. So, Ryan gives up the bearings. That night, there was a mutiny. They marooned Ryan on a street corner and left him to die. But not before he had lost his humor with the heat."

"Ah," said Simon. "So that's the reason for all the crappy jokes?"

"Reason's got nothing to do with it. Now Simon, when a man is marooned, he is given a mascara with a single drop of makeup," Fuller explained. "Well, it won't do much good impressing the ladies or to be rescued. But after three weeks of not being able to wear makeup, that mascara starts to look real friendly. But Ryan made it off the street corner and he still has that one drop. Oh, but he won't use it though, save for one man. His mutinous lead backup singer."

"Keith?"

"Aye."

"How did Ryan get off that street corner?" asked Simon.

"Well, I'll tell you," Fuller said. "He waded out into the curb and there he waited three days and three nights until all matter of hot girls came into his presence. And on the fourth morning, he hit himself on a couple of ladies, hopped in their car, and they drove him off."

"He hit on a couple of ladies?" Simon questioned.

"Aye, ladies."

"And what did he use to tempt them?"

Ryan walked up behind them. "Human hair, from my back." Simon looked at him. He hadn't thought of that approach to impress ladies. Maybe he should try it some time. "Let go of the parking brake!" Ryan called out.

"Let go of the parking brake, sir!" Ruben, one of the crew members, repeated.

"British Mr. Cowell and I are to go asidewalk," Ryan told Fuller.

"Host! What if the worst should happen?" asked Fuller.

"Keep to the code."

Fuller nodded. "Aye, the code."


	15. Chapter 15

The crappy singers had arrived at the dreaded Calle de los Cantantes Horribles and were preparing to have their curse lifted.

"Ten years of singing crappily," said Viggo to Edgar.

Edgar nodded. "And now we finally get to sing well!"

They giggled. "Once we're quit of the curse, we'll be famous singers," Viggo pointed out. "And you can sing a song that actually sounds good and isn't by Enrique Iglesias."

"That one does sound something awful," agreed Edgar.

"What code is Fuller to keep to if the worst should happen?" Simon asked as they drove down the Calle de los Cantantes Horribles.

"Hosts' code," replied Ryan. "Any man who falls behind is left behind."

"No heroes among hosts, eh?"

"You know, for having such a bleak outlook on hosts, you're well on your way to becoming one," said Ryan to Simon. "Sprung a host from a locked room, drove a tour bus, sailed with a crew out of Pasadena, and you're completely obsessed with treasure."

They pulled up to a junkyard and got out.

"That's not true," argued Simon. "I'm not obsessed with treasure."

They could see the horrible singers in the distance and snuck closer to them. Ryan spotted Paula on top of the pile of junk, held by Keith. "Not all treasure is silver and gold, dude."

"Singers, the time has come!" Ryan and Simon heard Keith announce from where they stood. "Our salvation is nigh! Our crappy singing is near at end."

"Paula!" Simon gasped, noticing her there with Keith.

"For ten years, we've been tested and tried," said Keith. "And each man jack of you here has proved his mettle a hundred times over and a hundred times again." The singers cheered.

"Sang badly, I have!" yelled Edgar.

"Punished we were. The lot of us – disproportionate to our crimes!" shouted Keith. He threw open a large Tupperware box filled with defective Innergy. "Here it is! The cursed treasure of Verraros himself. Every last piece that went astray we have returned. Save for this!" He pointed to the Innergy around Paula's neck.

Simon ran closer, scared for Paula. "Ryan!"

Ryan pulled him back. "Not yet. We wait for the opportune moment."

"Eight hundred and eighty one we found but despaired of ever finding the last," Keith continued.

"When's that?" Simon asked, going back to Ryan's comment. "When it's of greatest profit to you?"

"May I ask you something?" Ryan said. "Have I ever given you reason not to trust me? Do us a favor. I know it's difficult for you, but please say here and try not to do anything stupid."

"And who among us has sung badly to the American Idol producers?" Keith questioned.

"Us!" the singers cheered.

"And whose blood must yet be paid?"

"Hers!" they yelled, pointing to Paula.

"You know the first thing I'm going to do after the curse is lifted?" Keith said. "Eat a whole handful of cheez-its." He picked up a plastic knife. "Begun by blood, the blood undone."

Over where Ryan and Simon were standing, Simon had found a broken microwave on the ground and picked it up. Sneaking up behind Ryan, he hit him on the head. "Sorry Ryan. I'm not going to be your leverage."

The plastic knifed neared towards Paula. She gasped for breath and closed her eyes. A sharp pain was felt on her pinky, and she opened her eyes. "That's it?" she asked, noticing a small cut on her pinky finger.

"Waste not," Keith laughed. He and the other singers stood for a few minutes, waiting for the curse to lift.

"Did it work?" Nathaniel Golden Jr. asked.

"I don't feel no different," replied Edgar.

"How do we tell?" asked Viggo. Keith reached over to a radio and turned it on. Viggo started singing along, completely off key.

"You're not thinging well!" commented Nathaniel.

"No," agreed Viggo. "I sang badly!"

"It didn't work!" exclaimed Edgar.

"The curth ith thtill upon uth!" Nathaniel said.

"You, lady! Your father, what was his name?" Keith asked Paula. "Was your father Simonarilufdalid Cowell?"

"No," she answered.

"Where's his child? The child that flew from England eight years ago? The child in whose veins flows the blood of Simonarilufdalid Cowell?" Paula didn't respond.

"Where?" He hit her, knocking her down the dump pile.

"You two!" Robert yelled at Viggo and Edgar. "You brought us the wrong person!"

"No!" disagreed Viggo. "She had the Innergy. She's of proper age."

"She said her name was Cowell – you heard her!" Edgar said. "I think she lied to us."

Simon had seen this is a good opportunity and had snuck up to where Paula lay unconscious. He woke her up and motioned for her to follow him, grabbing the Innergy.

"You brought uth here for nothing!" Nathaniel said to Keith.

"I won't take questioning and no second guesses, not from the likes of you, Master Golden." Keith glared at Nathaniel.

"Who'th to blame? Every dethithion you have made hath led uth from bad to worthe." Said Nathaniel.

"It was you who sent Simon to the depths!" shouted William Hung.

"And it's you who brought us here in the first place," added Robert.

"If any coward here dare challenge me, let him speak!" challenged Keith.

"I thay we cut her throat and thpill all her blood, jutht in cathe," suggested Nathaniel.

Keith looked over to where Paula had landed and noticed she was gone. "The Innergy! She's taken it! Get after her, you crappy pack of singers!"

"No keys here," said William. "Where's the keys?"

"The keys have gone missing!" shouted Robert. "Find them!"

Ryan had regained consciousness and stumbled towards the singers.

"You!" Edgar said, spotting him."

"You're supposed to be dead!" commented Viggo.

"Am I not?" asked Ryan. He looked down at himself. "Oh." Viggo pointed a dreadful shade of lipstick at him.

"Hally…holy…hall…woody…weedy…hoodwood…"

"Hollywood?" Edgar corrected him.

"Hollywood!" exclaimed Ryan. "That's the one! You're going to Hollywood!"

"Damned to the depths whatever man had thought up 'you're going to Hollywood.'"

Ryan smiled. "That would be the Idol producers."


	16. Chapter 16

After Simon had rescued Paula, he had led her to the bus. "Not more hosts," she groaned as she boarded and noticed those aboard.

"Welcome aboard, Miss Paula," Fuller greeted.

"Mr. Fuller?" she questioned, recognizing him from years ago.

"Hey, boy, where be Ryan?" asked Fuller as Simon boarded behind Paula.

"Ryan?" Paula asked, surprised. "Ryan Seacrest?"

"He fell behind," replied Simon, looking at his shoes. He took Paula to the back of the bus.

"Keep to the code!" Fuller announced to the crew.

"Let go of the parking break!" shouted Kristin. "Put on your seatbelts! Make quickly, divvies!"

"How the blazes did you get off that street?" Keith asked Ryan back at the junkyard.

"When you marooned me on that godforsaken spit of road, you forgot one very important thing, man." Ryan said. "I'm Host Ryan Seacrest."

"Ah," said Keith. "Well, I won't be making that mistake again. Gents, you all remember Host Ryan Seacrest?" They nodded. "Kill him."

A look of terror wavered on Ryan's face for a moment and then disappeared. "The girl's blood didn't work, did it?"

"You know whose blood we need?" asked Keith.

"I know whose blood you need."

On the bus, Simon and Paula had made their way towards the back of the bus. Paula was wrapping up her cut pinky with a band-aid.

"What sort of man trades his life for a hosting job?" asked Paula.

"Host," Simon answered. "Here, let me." He took the band-aid from her hand and continued her wrapping.

"Thank you."

"You said you gave Keith my name as yours," stated Simon. "Why?"

Paula blushed. "I don't know." Simon wrapped the band-aid too tight and she winced and pulled away.

"I'm sorry. British multi-millionaire record company executive hands. I know they're rough."

"No…I mean yes, they are. But…but don't stop," she whispered.

"Paula." Simon leaned in, his lips nearing Paula's face. He traced his fingers down her neck. She followed his hands with hers, leading it to the defective Innergy.

"It's yours," she told him, breaking their moment.

"I thought I'd lost it the day they rescued me," Simon said, whispering. "It was a gift from my father. He sent it to me. Why did you take it?"

"Because I was afraid you were a host," she said, averting her eyes. "That would have been awful."

Simon shut his eyes. "It wasn't your blood they needed. It was my great step-uncle's blood…my blood…the blood of a host."

"Simon, I'm so sorry," said Paula. "Please forgive me."

Simon slammed down his fist on the back of the seat in front of him, the Innergy clenched in his hand. Paula got up and scurried to a seat near the front of the bus. They had almost kissed there, she realized. She had loved him since they had first met, and she never knew for sure if he felt the same way. But it was all ruined by the Innergy. Damn Innergy.

Ryan and Keith had found a broken table in the junkyard and had set it up in the Crappy Singermobile, sitting at it with broken chairs they had found and enjoying an argument with not much purpose at all.

"So you expect to leave me standing on some street with nothing but a name and your word it's the one I need and watch you drive away with my bus?" Keith asked him.

"No," argued Ryan, fingering a box of Cheez-its. "I expect to leave you standing on some street with absolutely no name at all, watching me sail away on _my_ bus and then I'll shout the name back to you. Got it?"

"But that still leaves us with the problem of me standing on some beach with naught but a name and your word it's the one I need," Keith bickered back.

"Of the two of us, I am the only one who hasn't committed mutiny," Ryan pointed out. "Therefore, my word is the one we'll be trusting. Although, I suppose I should be thanking you. Because, in fact, if you hadn't betrayed me and left me to die, I would have an equal share in that curse, same as you." He stuck a Cheez-it in his mouth. "Funny old world, isn't it?" He offered Keith the box of Cheez-its.

"Captain, we're coming up on the tour bus," said Robert, entering the room. Keith followed him to the front of the van, where he stood for a minute or two watching the situation.

Ryan came up behind him. "I'm having a thought here, Keith," he said, standing in Keith's view of the bus. "What say we run up an antenna ball of truce? I scurry over to the bus and I negotiate the return of your Innergy. What say you to that?"

"Now you see, Cresty," said Keith, using the nickname he had come up with for Ryan. "That's exactly the attitude that lost you the Crappy Singermobile. People are easy to search when they're dead." He turned to Robert. "Lock him in the trunk." Keith took the box of Cheez-its and threw it out the window in frustration.


	17. Chapter 17

"Hands aloft to loose t'gallants! With this wind at her bumper, she'll carry every tire we've got," Fuller shouted to the crew on the tour bus.

"What's happening?" asked Paula.

"The Crappy Singermobile," replied Kristin Holt. "She's gaining on us."

"But this is the fastest tour bus in LA!" exclaimed Paula, confused.

"You can tell them that after they've caught us," Kristin said.

"We're shallow on the left tire, right?" asked Paula. Kristin nodded.

"Well then can't we just lose them amongst these tourists?" Paula pointed to a group of about thirty Japanese tourists along the sidewalk.

"We don't have to outrun them long, just long enough," pointed out Fuller.

"Lighten the bus! Tire to tire!" announced Kristin.

"Anything we can afford to lose," Fuller said, "see that it's lost."

He and the others began grabbing spare tires, bags of cheetos, suitcases of clothes, and anything else sitting around in the bus, and threw them out the window. The Japanese tourists immediately began taking pictures.

On the Crappy Singermobile, Robert was locking Ryan into the trunk. Robert shut the trunk, leaving Ryan sitting there with sunlight leaking through a hole. "Apparently there's a hole," Ryan said, sounding muffled to Robert. Robert rolled his eyes.

"Haul on the parking break!" yelled Keith from the front of the van. "Make ready the guns! And run out the accelerator."

The Crappy Singermobile was now trailing the tour bus. Those on the tour bus were continuing to throw junk out the window. Jon Peter Lewis, one of the crewmembers, was starting to throw a rock out the window, but Simon stopped him. "We're going to need that."

Kristin looked to her side. The Crappy Singermobile was following next to the bus. "It was a good plan…up until now," she said sadly.

"Fuller!" shouted Simon. "We have to make a stand! We must fight! Load the slingshots!"

"With what?" asked Kristin.

"Anything," Simon replied. "Everything! Anything we have left."

Fuller nodded. "Load the slingshots! Take shot and fire! Lipstick containers and crushed glass! With a will!" The crew began loading their slingshots and firing the junk they hadn't yet thrown out the window. The Japanese tourists (who were walking a pretty fast pace obviously) took more pictures. "The Singermobile is going to accelerate up on our front left wheel. She'll rake us without ever presenting a target."

"Turn on the parking break on the right side!" yelled Paula. "On the starboard side!"

"It certainly has an element of surprise," commented Simon.

"You're daft, lady!" said Kristin to Paula. She looked at Simon. "You both are!"

"Daft like Ryan!" Fuller giggled. "Turn on the starboard parking break. Do it, you losers, or it's you we'll load into the slingshots!"

"Let go," said Paula to Kristin, who was holding the steering wheel. Kristin let go, causing the bus to spin around, now facing towards the Crappy Singermobile.

The crew began firing from their slingshots. "STOP BLOWING HOLES IN MY VAN!" yelled Ryan as a rock came crashing through a window.

Suddenly, "She bangs, she bangs…" was heard from the Singermobile. William Hung was leading the crew in a round of the song. The crew on the tour bus dropped their slingshots and covered their ears.

"We could use a few more ideas, lass," shouted Fuller to Paula over the sound of the singing.

"Your turn," replied Paula through gritted teeth.

"We need us a devil's dowry," Fuller said.

Kristin glanced at Paula. "We'll give them her." She held a slingshot to Paula's head.

"She's not what they're after," argued Simon.

Paula looked down at her chest. The Innergy was missing. "The Innergy."

The crappy singers had switched to another of William's favorites, YMCA, as Simon began searching through the bus for the Innergy. While looking through the bathroom at the back for it, the door slammed shut on him, locking him in. "Hey!" he called. "Hey! Out there!"

Ryan, on the Singermobile, had found a lasso in the back of the van in a pile of junk. He grabbed it, threw it around the bus, and swung over, barely managing to fit through an open window. Others had also boarded the bus, and Skat Girl was standing by Paula, her mouth open ready to sing. Ryan knocked her out of the way. "That's not very nice," he commented and then looked at Paula. "Where's the medallion?"

"Wretch!" yelled Paula, about to slap him.

He grabbed her wrist. "Ahh. Where is dear Simon?"

"Simon!" Paula looked to the back of the bus and realized he was trapped in the bathroom. "Simon!"

"Paula!" he shouted back through the door.

Meanwhile, Keith's hamster Ryan had scurried over to the bus, squeezed under the bathroom door, and stolen the Innergy. Ryan looked at the window, and saw Ryan (the hamster) getting ready to jump out. "Hamster!"

"I can't move it!" said Paula to Simon, pushing her body against the door. Nathaniel Golden Jr., who had also made his way onto the bus, grabbed Paula. "Simon!"

"Paula!" Simon yelled back.

Ryan had followed the hamster back to the Singermobile, where it had found Keith.

"Why thank you, Ryan," said Keith.

"You're welcome," replied Ryan.

"No," Keith said, correcting him. "Not you. We named the hamster Ryan. Gents, our hope is restored!" Ryan smiled weakly at him.

On the bus, the crappy singers had begun lighting matches. The crew had been taken over to the Crappy Singermobile, but Simon was still on board, locked in the bathroom, the fire nearing him every second.


	18. Chapter 18

"If any of you as much as thinks the phrase, 'You're going to Hollywood,' I'll have your guts for garters." Viggo glared at the tour bus crew as he held them captive in the Crappy Singermobile.

Paula looked out the window, and there, not twenty feet from the van, the tour bus blew up. She gasped. "Simon!" He was still in there! She struggled out of Viggo's grasp and ran over to Keith hit him. "You've got to stop it! Stop it!"

Keith laughed at her. "You took advantage of our hospitality last time. It holds fair now that you return the favor." He pushed her back towards Viggo and the crew.

Suddenly, the van door swung open and there was Simon, alive and well. "Keith!" he called.

"Simon!" said Paula with a sigh of relief.

Simon pointed the slingshot at Keith. "She goes free."

"What's in your head, boy?" asked Keith.

"She goes free!" repeated Simon.

"You've only got one shot," pointed out Keith. "And we can't die."

"Don't do anything stupid," muttered Ryan.

Simon ignored him. "You can't," he said to Keith. "I can."

"Like that," Ryan said, rolling his eyes.

"Who are you?" asked Keith.

Ryan turned towards Keith. "No one. He's no one. A distant cousin of my aunt's nephew twice removed. Lovely tight black shirts, though. Eunuch."

"My name is Simon Cowell," Simon said. "My great step-uncle was Loser Simonarilufdalid Cowell. His blood runs in my veins."

"He's the spitting image of old Loser Cowell come back to haunt us!" said Edgar.

"On my word, do as I say," commanded Simon. "Or I'll pull this trigger and be lost to Davy Jones' Pavement Locker."

Keith sighed. "Name your terms, Mr. Cowell."

"Paula goes free."

"Yes, we know that one," replied Keith. "Anything else?"

Ryan stood in front of him, pointing at himself. Simon didn't take the hint. "And the crew – the crew are not to be harmed."

"Agreed."

Twenty or so minutes later, the crew and the crappy singers still stood in the Crappy Singermobile. They had driven for a while, and were now in an area of town near the Calle de los Cantantes Horribles.

"Go on, poppet, go!" said Viggo to Paula. "Walk the hood."

"Keith, you lying bastard," growled Simon. "You swore she'd go free!"

"Don't dare impugn me honor, boy," Keith replied. "I agreed she'd go free, but it was you who failed to specify when or whe-he-here." A crappy singer pulled a handkerchief around Simon's mouth. Keith continued. "Though it does seem a shame to lose something so fine, don't it lads?"

"Aye!" agreed the singers.

"So I'll be having that shirt back before you go," said Keith to Paula.

Ryan looked at the singer next to him, "I've always liked you."

"It goes with your orange, green, and white plaid heart," Paula spat to Keith. She took off the shirt, orange green, and white like she had said, and threw them to him. She was wearing another shirt under it.

Keith held the shirt to his face. "Ooh…it's still warm."

"Off you go!" yelled a singer. "Come on!"

"Too long!" shouted Robert! He hit the hood, and she fell off onto the street.

They dragged Ryan to the hood. "I'd really had rather hoped we were past all this," he said.

"Ryan…Ryan, did you notice?" Keith asked. "That be the same little street we made you president of our last little trip."

"I did notice."

"Perhaps you'll be able to conjure up another miraculous escape," said Keith. "But I doubt it." He opened his mouth to begin singing.

"Last time, you left me a mascara with one drop," Ryan said.

"By the powers, you're right," agreed Keith. "Where be Ryan's mascara? Bring it forward."

"Seeing as there's two of us," Ryan said. "A gentleman would give us a pair of mascaras."

"It'll be one mascara as before, and you can be the gentleman and paint the lady's eyelashes and be ugly yourself." Keith threw the mascara out the window, Ryan jumping after it.


	19. Chapter 19

Ryan walked onto the sidewalk of the Calle de los Cantantes Horribles and looked behind him. "That's the second time I've had to watch that man drive away with my van."

He continued walking and Paula followed behind him. "But you were marooned on this street before, weren't you? So you can escape in the same way you did then," commented Paula.

"To what point and purpose, young missy?" asked Ryan. "The Crappy Singermobile is gone and unless you have a steering wheel and a lot of tires hidden in that bodice – unlikely - young Mr. Cowell will be dead long before you can reach him."

"But you're host Ryan Seacrest!" argued Paula. "You vanished under the eyes of seven security guards of the Fox television station. You sacked American Juniors without even firing a lame joke. Are you the host I've read about or not? How did you escape last time?"

"Last time…I was here a grand total of three days, all right?" admitted Ryan. "Last time," he opened a door to a building on the side of the street, "the coke runners used this island as a cache. Came by, and I was able to barter a passage away. From the looks of things, they've long been out of business. Probably…have your bloody friend Colt to thank for that."

"So that's it then?" Paula questioned. "That's the secret grand adventure of the infamous Ryan Seacrest? You spent three days lying on a street, drinking coke?"

"Welcome to LA, love." He handed her a coke bottle.

A few hours later, they had drunk a few bottles of coke, and were on a sugar high.

"We're hosts and bad joke tellers and really lame people. Drink up me 'earties yo ho! Yo ho, yo ho a hosts's life for me," they sang as they danced around a fire they had begun burning in a trash can.

"I love this song!" shouted Ryan. "Really lame people! Ooh!" he said as he fell to the ground. "When I get the Singermobile back, I'm going to teach it to the whole crew, and we'll sing it all the time!"

"And you'll be positively the most lame host in Los Angeles," said Paula.

"Not just Los Angeles, love," he said. "The entire state. The entire world. Wherever we want to go, we'll go. That's what a van is, you know. It's not just a wheel and a brake and a tire and windows. That's what a van needs. But what a van is…what the Crappy Singermobile really is…is freedom."

"Ryan," said Paula. "It must be really terrible for you to be trapped on this street."

"Oh yes." He put his arm around Paula. "But the company is infinitely better than last time, I think. And the scenery has definitely improved."

"Mr. Seacrest!" Paula gasped. "I'm not entirely sure that I've had enough coke to allow that talk."

"I know exactly what you mean, love." He spiked up a piece of hair.

"To freedom!" Paula said, raising her coke glass.

"To the Crappy Singermobile!" Ryan toasted her back.

The next morning, Ryan woke up to the smell of smoke. He looked over and saw Paula burning a fire in another trashcan. "No! Not good!" he yelled. "Stop! Not good! What are you doing? You burned all the food, the shade! The coke!"

"Yes, the coke is gone," Paula said.

"Why is the coke gone?"

"One, because it is a vile drink that turns even the most respectable men to hyper children," pointed out Paula. "Two, that signal is over ten feet high. The entire Fox production crew is out looking for me. Do you really think that there is even the slightest chance that they won't see us?"

"But why is the coke gone?"

Paula ignored him and went to sit on the curb. "Just wait, host Seacrest. You give it one hour, maybe two. Keep a weather eye out and then you will see black bumpers on that horizon."

Ryan took out his mascara, but then put it back in his pocket, overcoming his wave of anger.

He stalked off and sat down on the curb about twenty feet away. "Must've been terrible for you to be trapped here, Ryan," mimicked Ryan, talking to himself. "Must've been terrible. WELL IT BLOODY IS NOW!" He looked down the street and saw Nigel's car coming towards them. "There'll be no living with her after this," he muttered.


	20. Chapter 20

"But you've got to save Simon!" insisted Paula. She was in the back seat of Nigel's car.

"No," argued Nigel. "You're safe now. We will return to the Fox studios immediately, not go gallivanting after crappy singers!"

"Then we condemn him to death?" asked Paula.

"The boy's fate is regrettable," Nigel said. "But then, so was his decision to engage in hosting."

"To rescue me!" Paula pointed out. "To prevent anything from happening to me!"

"If I may be so bold as to inject my professional opinion," Ryan interrupted. "The Singermobile was listing near to scuppers after the battle. It's very unlikely she'll be able to make good time. Think about it. The Crappy Singermobile. The last real crappy singer threat in America, dude. How can you pass that up?"

"By remembering that I serve others, Mr. Seacrest, not only myself," said Colt.

"Colt, I beg you, please do this," Paula pleaded. "For me. As a wedding gift."

Nigel looked at her, surprised. "Paula, are you accepting Colt's proposal?"

"I am."

"A wedding!" exclaimed Ryan. "I love weddings! AT&T Wireless phones all around!" Nigel glared at him. "I know," Ryan said, dejected. "'Clap him in irons,' right?"

"Mr. Seacrest," said Colt. "You will accompany these fine men to the trunk and provide us with the bearing to the Calle de los Cantantes Horribles. You will then spend the rest of the drive contemplating all possible meanings of the phrase 'silent as the grave.' Do I make myself clear?"

"Inescapably clear," answered Ryan as two security guards dragged him out of the car and into the trunk.

In the Crappy Singermobile, Viggo and Edgar stood washing the window.

"Shiver me timbers," barked Mr. Aiken's dog Raleigh.

"Aiken here says you missed a bit," said Fuller to the two singers.

Simon turned to Viggo. "You knew Simonarilufdalid Cowell?"

"Old Loser Cowell," said Viggo. "We knew him. Never sat well with Loser what we did to Ryan Seacrest, the mutiny and all. He said it wasn't right with the code. That's why he sent off a piece of the Innergy to you as it were. He said we deserved to be cursed. And remain cursed."

"Stupid blighter," said Edgar.

"Good man," argued Fuller.

"Well," continued Viggo. "As you can imagine, that didn't sit too well with the captain."

"That didn't sit to well with the captain at all!" giggled Edgar. "Tell him what Keith did.

"I'm telling the story!!" shouted Viggo. "So. What the captain did. He strapped a recording of their singing to Loser's shirt."

"Loser's shirt," laughed Edgar hysterically.

"The last we saw of old Simon Cowell, he was sinking to the crushing black oblivion of the ghettos of Compton," Viggo said. "Of course, it was only after that we learned we needed his blood to lift the curse."

"That's what you call ironic," said Edgar.

Keith stomped up to them. He threw him the keys to the chains that were keeping the crew locked to the seats. "Bring him!"

"I don't care for the situation," said Colt. They were driving in a golf cart from a nearby street to the junkyard. "Any attempt to storm the junkyard could turn into an ambush."

"Not if you're the one doing the ambushing," Ryan said. "I go in, I convince Keith to send his men out with their little golf carts. You and your mates return to Nigel's car and blast the bejesus out of them with your little slingshots, eh?" Ryan put an arm around Colt. "What do you have to lose?"

Colt pushed Ryan's hand off his shoulder. "Nothing I'd lament being rid of."

"Now, to be honest with you," continued Ryan. "There's still a slight risk for those in Nigel's car, which includes the future Mrs. Melby."

In Nigel's car, the security guards were dragging Paula to the front. "Sorry, but for your own safety," said one of the security guards.

"Coward!" screeched Paula. "The Colt ordered…I have to tell him! The singers! They're cursed! They can't stop singing crappily!"

"Don't worry, miss, he's already informed of that," laughed the security guard. "A little leprechaun jumped up into the car and told him the whole story."

"This is Ryan Seacrest's doing!" Paula yelled. They locked the seatbelt onto her.


End file.
